An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (112 page)

“Thank you, Adam. I knew that I could rely on you.”

He put out his hand and the other man grasped it. Zara made a, wide gesture with her arms which threw back from her white shoulders the heavy, cascading cloak of hair.

“But that is such a trifle to ask of us! I was expecting to do more, so very much more for you, m’lord, and now I am sadly disappointed.”

“You were ever generous Zara,” Lord Brecon said, and taking one of her gesticulating little hands, he raised it to his lips. Caroline gave a sigh.

“So everything is settled,” she said “and now, my lord, perhaps it would be wise for me to make some arrangement to continue my journey.”

“But of course, Miss Fry. I have been selfish enough as it is concerning myself only with my own affairs and not with yours. Adam, is it possible to obtain a post-chaise?”

“But of course,” Mr. Grimbaldi replied. ‘I will send the boy to the nearest inn. Where do you wish to go, Madam?”

“I wish eventually to reach Dover,” Caroline answered. ‘But if one could take me from here to Maidstone, I could perhaps…”

“We will find one to take you the whole way,” Lord Brecon interrupted and then, as Caroline would have disputed this with him he said, “Please permit me to arrange this. It is my pleasure to do so. The chaise, on my instructions, shall take you home. ”

With a little smile Caroline realised that he thought she was considering the cost and so she ceased to argue with him and thanked him gratefully.

Adam Grimbaldi called the boy and sent him off to the inn, then opened another bottle of champagne. By now Caroline was sleepy and yet she found herself vividly aware of Lord Brecon. She wondered, as she watched him, what it was about his face which was so different from other men.

He was exceedingly good-looking, it was true, but it was more than that. There was something reserved and strange about his eyes, something which seemed to suggest that he held himself in check. Even his laughter was not always spontaneous, and his smile, charming though it was, had often a sadness or cynicism about it.

“He hides a secret, I am sure,” Caroline told herself but she could not by any logic justify her instinct in the matter.

Although it was so late, Caroline felt that she could not leave the menagerie without seeing some of the animals. When the boy had returned to say that post-chaise would be with them in half an hour, she begged that she might see the lions, the tigers, and the kangaroo, which was a very new purchase of Adam Grimbaldi’s and of which he was inordinately proud.

They went from wagon to wagon. Most of the animals were asleep. They blinked in the light of the lanterns while the more savage of them growled at being disturbed.

“You must come and see us when we get to St. Bartholomew’s Fair,” Adam Grimbaldi said as they finished their tour of inspection.

“I would not miss it for a thousand guineas,” Caroline cried.

“If all else fails, Miss Fry, you might ask Adam to find you employment with his Menagerie,” Lord Brecon suggested.

“The idea tempts me extremely, my lord,” Caroline replied, “but I have a suspicion that my father and mother would not approve.”

“No, perhaps not,” Lord Brecon laughed, “but your lady of quality sounds more ferocious than a dozen wild animals.”

“As indeed she was,” Caroline replied.

The boy came running to say that the post-chaise was outside. Caroline thanked Mr. Grimbaldi for his hospitality and said good-bye to Madame and Lord Brecon escorted her to the post-chaise. He had a short conversation with the groom and Caroline heard the clink of guineas. Then he came to Caroline’s side, and taking up a rug with which the post-chaise was provided, he tucked it carefully round her knees.

“Do you think you are safe to travel this long distance alone?” he asked. “I wonder if it would be wiser for me to accompany you.”

“Oh no, my lord,” Caroline said quickly. “There is no need for that. I shall be perfectly safe and I shall be at Dover soon after breakfast. I have nothing of value on me to attract the attention of highwaymen and to tell the truth I shall sleep!”

“Then a good journey to you, Miss Fry, and may I thank you for all you have done for me?”

“It was nothing,” Caroline answered.

Lord Brecon was speaking to her through the window of the chaise so that she could not see his face very clearly, but her own was lit by the moonlight and her eyes, raised to his, were shining.

“It has been a very thrilling adventure,” she added softly.

‘We will not meet again,” Lord Brecon said and then as he looked down into her face, he added, “Good-bye, sweet Caroline – and thank you.”

She held out her hand to him but when he took it, he bent his head not to her fingers but to her parted lips. Before Caroline was aware of his intention, before she could move or protest, he had kissed her full on the mouth. As he drew back from the door of the chaise, the groom whipped up the horses and Caroline was carried swiftly on her way.

For a moment her thoughts were too chaotic for her to feel anything but astonishment, and then anger replaced her surprise.

“How dare he?” she said aloud. “How dare he?”

No man had ever touched her mouth before, and Caroline lifted the tips of her fingers to it, wondering to feel the warmth of her lips

“How dare he?” she repeated.

So that was what it was like to be kissed! She felt again the strength and yet the softness of his mouth on hers, was conscious of the strange, startled throbbing of her heart and the fire which seemed to rise in the base of her throat and choke the very breath from her body. That was a kiss!

Caroline smiled to herself in the darkness. Oh well, it was no use being angry, it was perhaps a fitting finish to an exciting adventure.

She put her head back against the coach but tired though she was, sleep did not come to her. Why, she wondered, had Lord Brecon said they would not meet again? Was it because he thought that his path and that of a paid companion were unlikely to become entangled with so much difference in their social status? Or was it for another and less simple reason?

She found herself visualising him very clearly. How good looking he was, how strangely different from all the other men she had ever known! He was older, of course. She guessed him to be about twenty-six or twenty-seven, but even so there was more personality in his little finger than in the whole of Lord Glosford’s long, languid body.

Brecon! It was an attractive name, but Caroline wondered what his intimates called him.

She fell asleep about half an hour before they reached the first posting inn, and then awoke with a start because she had been dreaming. While the horses were being changed, she went into the inn to wash her hands and beholding her reflection in a mirror was horrified at her appearance.

No wonder Lord Breton had easily believed her story of being a paid companion. Her once impressive dress of rich velvet was stained, dusty and torn beyond repair. The lace at her neck had become tattered where she had forced her way through the branches of the wood and her hands were literally filthy from climbing from the window and touching the green bark of the trees.

It took Caroline some time to wash and tidy herself, but even so she delayed the post-chaise a few more minutes while she wrote a note to Mrs. Edgmont and asked that it should be sent to Vulcan House in Grosvenor Square by post. She received the landlady’s assurance that it should go first thing in the morning. Caroline was not quite certain, however, that this would be done, for they were all tired in the inn and had been asleep when the groom of her post-chaise had awakened them. But the sight of a guinea, which luckily she had with her in her purse, was enough to redouble their assurance with a ring of sincerity which had been lacking before. When Caroline rejoined her chaise and started once again on her journey, she was sure that Cousin Debby would not be long without news of her movements.

The rest of the journey to Dover was uneventful. Caroline slept easily and peacefully, the sleep of a tired child. She was so glad to be on her way home, so sure of her welcome and her parents’ ability to smooth away all her difficulties that even her twinges of conscience over her original acceptance of Sir Montagu’s invitation did not keep her awake. Caroline had not yet learnt to worry.

Her life to date had been a very pleasant one. To begin with she had been born and brought up at Mandrake, one of the loveliest houses in the country and by far the most magnificent. The foundations of Mandrake had been laid by Sir Justin de Faye who had come to England with William of Normandy, and every succeeding generation of Fayes had built on to and enriched the house until the great roofs now covered a vast treasure store of incalculable value and interest. And as Mandrake had grown during the centuries, so had the family who owned it acquired wealth and honours, titles and distinctions.

No wonder the 15th Marquis of Vulcan was proud of his heritage, no wonder he loved every inch of Mandrake, from the ancient Norman Keep which still stood sentinel on the furthest point of the white cliffs, to the exquisite ballrooms and salons added but forty years ago by his mother to the design of Robert Adam.

The 14th Marchioness, Caroline’s grandmother, had been banished from Court because of her insatiable passion for gaming. She had created a Court of her own at Mandrake and reigned there supreme until she had been stoned to death by the smugglers whom she employed to sally forth from the secret caves below the house to procure for her illicit goods from France.

With her death, a raffish, extravagant and exotic era came to an end, and for Caroline Mandrake meant peace, a quiet beauty and an atmosphere of unbroken joy. Her father and mother had such an overwhelming love for each other that the whole place was enchanted, and everyone who lived at Mandrake with them seemed to reflect some of their radiant happiness.

But in Caroline’s veins ran the proud, turbulent, courageous blood of the Fayes. Each of her features, every movement she made, every action she performed was as much the accumulation of centuries as were the grandeur and dignity of Mandrake itself. She had inherited the pride, the loyalty and the integrity, of her ancestors, but also their deep passions, their determination and strong-willed obstinacy. Much of her grandmother’s beauty was hers too - a beauty which was already a legend of the eighteenth century. Yet while that flawless perfection of line and grace was born again in Caroline, it was combined with something of her mother’s loveliness. Serena, Marchioness of Vulcan’s purity and sweetness of heart shone like a flame, no one who knew her could look into her clear, blue eyes and not be aware of her spiritual qualities.

In Caroline one could find that same purity and straightforward honesty, but her temperament and personality were like the waves she had watched from her nursery windows as she grew up, and their music had ever been a part of her thoughts and dreams. White-crested, dashing headlong against the steep cliffs, breaking the emerald and sapphire of the smooth water wild, untrammelled and tempestuous or gentle waves, moving rhythmically as a woman’s soft breathing and sinking finally in soft surrender against the golden, sunlit sand.

Caroline’s moods were as varied and as unexpected. Her mother would sigh over her, afraid of what the future would hold for a girl so breathtakingly beautiful and also so vividly and emotionally alive.

Loyalty and singleness of purpose were virtues Caroline had to a fault. Once, when she was but ten years old, a young groom who looked after her pony was taken to court on a poaching charge. Caroline learnt of it and without asking permission or even telling anyone of her intention she rode off full gallop to Dover. She stormed into the court, demanded of the magistrates that she should give evidence in the defence of her groom, and was so plausible and persuasive that the boy was released to return with her to Mandrake.

At home her absence had been noticed and her father was organising a search party when she returned. Lord Vulcan questioned Caroline somewhat severely, for both he and Lady Vulcan had been extremely frightened at their daughter’s disappearance. But Caroline’s explanation was very simple,

“He was my friend, Papa!”

And supposing he had been found guilty and sent to prison?” Lord Vulcan asked.

“I would have gone with him,” Caroline replied, and added with unanswerable logic, “You would then have had both him and me freed.”

Lady Vulcan worried over her daughter as she grew older, even while she could not help but be proud of her. Caroline was so exquisite both in body and mind that it seemed impossible to find a flaw anywhere. She might be impulsive, impetuous and at times mischievous, but no one had ever known her do an unkind action or an ungenerous one.

The servants adored her and she had more friends than it was possible to remember. When she appeared in London it was not only her name and background of wealth and position which made her the most important
debutante
of her year, it was her loveliness, her friendliness and her exuberant, whole-hearted joyousness which made her a magnet to attract admirers of both sexes.

One thing only surprised her godmother. Caroline, after four months in Society, was as heart-whole as the day she first left Mandrake. As ‘The Toast of the Town’ and ‘the Incomparable’ she had offers in plenty but she declined them all with a firmness which left her admirers with little hope that she was just coy or indecisive.

“I cannot suspicion who you imagine will make a better match,” Lady Bullingham said sarcastically after Caroline had refused Lord Glosford.

“I know someone who will,” Caroline answered, her lovely little face alight with amusement at her godmother’s anger.

“Who then? For I vow I could read
Debrett
from cover to cover without enlightenment.”

“He may not be there,” Caroline smiled.

“Not in
Debrett!
Lord save us, girl! Do not tell me that you contemplate a
mésalliance..
‘Tis more than I can bear, who is he? I demand an answer! Who is he?”

“Alas, I do not know,” Caroline replied. ‘For I have yet to meet a man I could love.”